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XXI

T. Campion

Lo, when back mine eye,

Pilgrim-like I cast,

What fearful ways I spy,

Which, blinded, I securely past!

21

But now heaven hath drawn

From my brows that night;

As when the day doth dawn,

So clears my long-imprison'd sight.

Straight the Caves of Hell

Dress'd with flowers I see,

Wherein False Pleasures dwell,

That, winning most, most deadly be.

Throngs of maskéd fiends,

Wing'd like angels, fly;

E'en in the gates of friends,

In fair disguise black dangers lie.

Straight to heaven I raised

My restoréd sight,

And with loud voice I praised

The LORD of ever-during light.

And since I had stray'd

From His ways so wide,

His grace I humbly pray'd

Henceforth to be my guard and guide.

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